His eyelids gently fluttered open,
though his body still retained some inertia, engaging in repetitive tasks. Just as Wu Hen's spirit became clear, his motions persistently continued, still washing the instrument before him.
Wu Hen felt puzzled.
Shouldn't he be in an herbal garden, with lush green sky overhead, surrounded by dark blue woods, unknown wildflowers dotting the scenery, and the air mingled with the fragrance of grass and fruits…
Instead, why was he standing in a dim underground factory, where the air was dense with dust, rich as sulfur, choking his respiratory tract and creating a sensation of sticky suffocation in his throat and lungs, and most importantly, the whole area was unbearably hot, like being in an airtight steamer?
"Cough, cough~"
Someone coughed heavily.
